


the shadow of your heart

by Joiedevivre



Series: to make you stay [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, alt title for this fic: suddenly prompto, chapter two: suddenly gladio, j/k noct is my angel, noct is a shit, we just don't know, where is this fic going, you should probably feel bad for iggy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joiedevivre/pseuds/Joiedevivre
Summary: Noct isn't so oblivious, after all. [supplemental Noctis side tie-in to 'you wondrous creature']Chapter 3 added (takes place after Ignis' Chapter 4).





	1. Chapter 1

Noctis knew. He'd known from the very start, because of course, how could he not? Ignis was a man of subtle movements, all practiced control and poise, but Noct had known him too long, and, he supposed, it must be easier to penetrate that veil of stern self possession when you yourself are the object of attention. And true, Noctis got a lot of (often unwanted) attention. But none quite as fervent and as frequent as from Ignis. It used to grate at him, the way Ignis hovered and scolded, the sharpness in his omnipresent scrutiny as he watched Noct's every move. Ignis wasn't even that much older than him, he had thought many times with resentment. But it mattered little. Next to Ignis, Noct felt hopelessly incapable. Ignis exuded self confidence while Noct stumbled through his duties half crippled by his own immaturity. Noct took no comfort from his knowledge of his shortcomings. Self awareness did not bring him success in combating those flaws; on the contrary, it only compounded his guilt at each new failure. 

Noctis wasn't petty. Any unkindness in him was usually born of quick temper rather than malice. And oh, had his temper built, time and again under countless frustrations and admonitions from Ignis. So it was that the first time Noct caught a shift in Ignis' gaze on him, the barest hint of wishful longing, the expression lingered in his mind. He knew as surely as the sun would rise each morning that studious, dutiful Ignis would take his desire to the grave, and he was equally as sure that he could change that fact. Of course, he hadn't expected it to be quite so easy. He had practiced for it, prepared for more resistance. He had sought out Prompto's invaluable advice. 

"How do you do it?" he'd asked one day as they sat back to back in the palace gardens, each staring down at their mobile phone, deeply engaged in their ongoing rivalry at Kingsknight. 

"Hmm?" Prompto responded, waiting for elaboration. 

"The girls and all. How does it work?" 

"Seriously, dude?" Prompto's shoulders shook as he barely held back laughter. He lowered his phone, twisting his body halfway around to look at his friend. "I know they keep you sheltered up here, but do you need me to draw you a picture?" 

Noctis blushed deep red, pushing Prompto's smirking face away. "No. Idiot. I just meant - if there's someone... you know... that you want. What's a good way to... start?"

Prompto scooted beside Noct, then leaned back on the grass, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Ah. You want to know how to flirt." 

"Yeah but like...seriously." Noct leaned back on his own elbows, frowning as he considered.

Prompto's grin widened. "Colour me curious. Who is it?" 

"No one! Whatever. It's not important. Are you going to help or what?" 

"Of course I'm going to help," Prompto nodded cheerfully. "Count on me." 

"I am," Noctis muttered. "That's what I'm so concerned about." 

"Don't be that way," Prompto cuffed him on the shoulder with a soft push of his boot; from their mirrored positions, foot to head on the ground, he had easy reach to do so. "I'm good at this. First things first. Do they like you already, or do we need to get them to like you?" 

Noctis took a moment to respond, remembering the prolonged stare that Ignis had leveled at him across the breakfast table that morning. "They want me," he replied. 

Prompto raised an eyebrow at the verb choice. "Noct," he began with less levity. "That's - that's kind of a different thing. You sure, man?" The situation suddenly felt weightier, the undercurrent of Noct's words a potent suggestion. And Noct remembered, the superior, uppity way Ignis had taken him to task over his lack of grace and ill manners, not an hour earlier. His face darkened with cool determination. "I'm sure," he said, leaving no room for dispute. 

"Whatever you say... prince." Prompto shook his head to shift the hair out of his eyes and did not raise the question again. 

 

It was the first of many afternoons that they would spend in the garden, and Noct was not the most apt of pupils. Prompto frequently found himself wanted to double over with laughter as Noctis attempted again and again to find an ounce of coquetry somewhere within. He was far from a natural at the subject, and it wasn't hard to see why. Noct was built all of blunt edges; his forward, direct nature could be an asset in many circumstances, but it was remarkably less than helpful for his current efforts. After a week of painful practice, Prompto called a halt. "Stop. Please, dude, you're hurting me. Just stop making that face. Let's try something different." 

Noct was all too willing to drop the expression. "I don't think I'm made for this," he said glumly, and Prompto recognized the storm clouds gathering on his brow. Disappointment would turn to frustration before long.

"Anyone can do this," Prompto informed him. "You just have to - I don't know - find the _you_ version of it. 'Cause I'm showing you what I do, but you're way different than me, so it's not working. I like people, so putting on my best sunny smile, that's all I need. You're kind of... gloomier. It doesn't look right on your face." 

Noctis groaned and collapsed in on himself to sit on the grass, then flop backwards into full recline, flinging one arm across his face, partly simple dramatics and partly to shield his eyes. When he spoke, his voice came out muffled. "How am I supposed to seduce someone without smiling?" 

"No, you should definitely smile!" Prompto protested. "You've got a great smile. You just can't fake it. It shows." 

Noct peeked out from under his arm, considering. "You're saying I have to mean it." 

"Have to mean - of course you have to mean it! What else are we doing this for?" Exasperated, Prompto placed his hands on his hips and bent over his friend. "Sheesh. Now I know how Ignis and Gladio feel when they try to teach you things." 

The blow struck far too close to home. Prompto barely caught a glimpse of blue fury flashing in Noct's eyes as the other boy hooked a leg around his ankle and swept him flat on his back. Winded from the sudden fall, Prompto gasped for air for only a moment before Noct was on him, pinning him to the ground. 

"I learned a few things from Gladio," he said coolly. 

Prompto wheezed, nodding. "I'm - I see - you -"

Noct grinned, characteristically smug with pleasure at having achieved a small win in what had so far been a day of losses. 

"Like that," Prompto rasped.

"Huh?" 

"There's your smile," Prompto coughed. "Give me my arm back."

Noctis obliged cheerfully, shifting his knee to free the pinned limb. "Just like that?" he grinned. Prompto clapped him on the shoulder. "Gotta mean it." 

"I mean it," Noct said determinedly. 

"Then we'll get you there," Prompto said happily. 

"If you two are done with the horseplay." Gladio's voice from the entryway startled them both, Noctis scrambling backward in an awkward crabwalk and Prompto's hands flying up to straighten his hair. It was a futile effort- nothing about the situation could be remedied to make it appear less suggestive. Prompto looked around frantically, anywhere but at Gladio, his face flushed, and Noct managed an embarrassed chuckle, though he wondered how long they'd been observed. "Training already?" he asked, aiming for nonchalance. 

"Past time," Gladio replied, "You're late again." 

"Sorry," Noct offered sheepishly. "Let's, um, let's go then. See ya later Prompt." 

"Later!" Prompto squeaked out, loud and high pitched. 

Noct could feel Gladio's eyes on his back as they departed, but he made no effort to explain himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis woke with a start, ripped awake at the conclusion of a nightmare that he was already forgetting, wisps of sights and sensations slipping away from the edges of his mind. He frowned sleepily, grasping at the fading memories. It had been a nightmare, hadn't it? Why else would he have woken so suddenly? But he was surrounded by a feeling of warmth, relaxation permeating his limbs. He yawned slowly, turning his head as he enjoyed the feel of the soft - skin? - of his pillow. He blinked rapidly, clearing the sleep from his eyes. The events of the day came rushing back to him. He was fully awake very quickly, pushing back anxiety as he delicately extricated himself from his advisor's arms. It was not an easy task - he lay cradled in one arm with the other draped across, the embrace tender and secure. _Shit_ , he thought. Not good. Not good at all. This was not part of the plan. _And what was your plan, exactly?_ he asked himself. He glanced back at Ignis guiltily as he slid off the opposite side of the bed. Without those long arms wrapped around him, he was already cold, the physical discomfort stacking on his mental unease. He scooped his shorts off the floor, hopping into them awkwardly one foot at a time as he made his way to his pants at the foot of the bed. And where had he thrown his shirt? He remembered flinging it off at some point near the beginning. He cheeks grew hot as he remembered what had happened earlier. It was so easy to summon Ignis to his room lately - he didn't even need to use words to make Ignis understand him. He'd kept him waiting, too, showing up almost a half hour after he'd seen Ignis leave, so when he'd arrived, Ignis had been impatient - bordering on frantic - as he helped Noct out of his clothes, and Noct had loved it, gone for it enthusiastically, wondering if he could elicit this level of participation from Ignis every time. 

He spotted his shirt on the floor in front of his dresser and bent to pick it up hastily. When he straightened, he caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror and halted immediately. His hair was flattened on the side where he'd laid on Ignis' chest, and there, on his hips trailing into his waistband and partially obscured by his pants, the skin was reddened, several long straight lines of scratches layered over the top. Ignis had marked him, subtly but visibly, and he was willing to bet accidentally as well. Noctis knew when it had happened, in the heat of the moment, near the end. Something had come over him, and Ignis had gripped him painfully, the good kind of pain, fevered and insistent. He touched the marks lightly, wondering what Ignis had been thinking as he'd clung to his hips with a strange, needy expression on his face. He pulled his shirt on almost reluctantly, wishing for more time to inspect the marks. Later, he thought. 

"Leaving so soon?" 

Noctis froze. Shit! Shitshitshit. He'd taken too long. Panic surged through him in a rush of adrenaline, heart ready to leap out of his chest. He hadn't even allowed himself to consider at any length what he was doing with Ignis, much less ready to sit down and have a talk about it with Ignis himself. He glanced over at him only briefly, reflexively, after he spoke, then at everything but him. He couldn't let Ignis corner him and force a conversation. 

"Gladio will be waiting for me," he latched on to the first excuse that came to mind and hated it immediately. It was bad. Flimsy. Easily disproven. He could almost hear it in Ignis' reply, the accusation of falsehood, the guilt trip he was laying on pretty thick, and oh god, was he really going to call him out on it, call Gladio himself? He jerked his gaze back to Ignis, horrified at the idea yet somehow distracted by the long lines of Ignis' shamelessly nude body.

"No! I"ll find him," Noct gulped. "I"ll - I'll see you later." He ran for the door before the conversation could get any more out of hand. 

-

Respite did not await him on the other side. 

"Highness," Gladio said, his huge frame lounging against the wall nearby, a smile that looked a little too close to a smirk on his face. Noct nearly jumped out of his skin. Fuck! Did saying his name summon him?!

"Easy," Gladio chuckled. "Didn't mean to scare you." 

"I'm fine," Noct snapped, redirecting his surprise into annoyance. "What are you doing here?" he asked crossly, setting off down the hall. 

"Came looking for you," Gladio's long strides kept up with him easily. "His Majesty was concerned when you missed dinner. Quite the nap you took, huh?" 

Noct faltered for a moment. Was he suggesting something? "What do you mean?" he asked warily. 

"Your hair looks like the bottom side of a bird's ass and you're not wearing shoes," Gladio replied, and there was definitely a hint of mockery in his smile this time. 

Noctis turned red with embarrassment. "I haven't been sleeping well," he mumbled. 

"Well, don't let Iggy catch you -" Gladio laughed, and Noctis tripped over his own feet - "looking like that." Gladio caught him by the arm and steadied him.

"What?" Noctis asked fearfully.

"You know he'd take it as a personal affront to see you so unkempt," Gladio finished, and Noct's shoulders sagged with near visible relief. 

"Oh," he mumbled. 

Gladio tilted his head, looking the prince up and down with uncomfortable scrutiny. "You all right?" he asked curiously. 

"Just hungry," Noct sighed forlornly with partial honesty. He had missed dinner after all, and all the warm, safe feelings he'd had when he woke up were totally gone, leaving him with a growling stomach and a creeping stress headache. He wanted to go back to sleep. Everything was suddenly too complicated. 

"C'mon then," Gladio said after another moment's study, gesturing to the right with his head as they reached the end of the corridor. "Let's get you some food. If we run into Specs, you can hide behind me. Scrawny." He pushed Noctis gently, playfully, and Noct felt a rush of gratitude. Whatever Gladio did or didn't know, he knew that he was always looking out for him. 

"Thanks," he said, and the smile he offered was genuine. "What would I do without you?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I have a problem," Noct blurted out, hands going still on his tacklebox. 

"Not unusual," Gladio grunted, his own hands sorting through a mess of tangled lures. It was a disaster, hooks on hooks, hooks bit into the backs of lures, fishing line spun into a huge knotted web stringing everything together. "How did you even do this?" he demanded, holding the whole ball up for Noct to see. "You just throw crap in here when you swap off?"

Noctis focused on the wad of sharp objects dangling a little too close to his eyes for comfort. "Sometimes," he admitted, trying to conjure up more regret but only finding slight sheepishness. If he had been looking at Gladio, he would have seen the eye roll that he wasn’t even attempting to hide, but he was preoccupied with concern over his impending blindness. “Could you wave that thing somewhere else?” He couldn’t keep the slight note of fear mixed with chagrin out of his voice.

Gladio dropped the mess back in the tackle box and frowned. “Why do you need my help with this anyway? Where’s Ignis to pick up your mess like always?” His hands grew busy, working the tangled line free with surprising dexterity. “It’s been weeks since you’ve been fishing.”

Noctis poked at a few lures listlessly, one finger nudging them into upright positions. Each one fitted into a carefully labeled slot, the worn white stickers of the labels showing finely printed letters in perfect lines naming the lure type. The box had been a gift from his father, but the painstaking customization had been all Ignis’ work. Looking at it now, Noctis felt for the first a pang of regret - both that he hadn’t appreciated the gift enough to put the work into it himself, and that he’d never thanked Ignis for his part in perfecting it. And on top of that, it was true that ordinarily Ignis would have long since set the box back in order after discovering it in disarray. Noctis hadn’t gotten a lecture in caring for his things, so he knew it had been totally overlooked, and not simply ignored. Truthfully he wouldn’t have been surprised if Ignis had made him sort the mess out himself (under his watchful eye, of course).

“Ignis and I are fighting,” he said in a rush, the confession hard to get out.

Gladio finished unwinding a long tangle that was wrapped around an enormous hook, the type Noct used for larger catfish, before answering. “No you’re not. You and Ignis don’t fight.” He didn’t seem overly concerned, and he was correct that usually he wouldn’t need to be. Noctis and Ignis regularly butted heads, but they got along very well regardless. The idea of them remaining in conflict for any period of time was unheard of.

“Let me guess. One of you did something, one of you said something, one of you disliked what the other one said, and then one of you got tough with the other, and one of you took the loss and you haven’t made nice yet.” Gladio handed him the large hook carefully, sharp side away. “Tell me where I got it wrong.”

Noctis let out a short, surprised bark of a laugh. Nothing Gladio had said was strictly incorrect. “That’s pretty much it,” he nodded, taking the hook and examining it for rust or other signs of use. Satisfied it was in good condition, he put it away.

“So go make nice,” Gladio said curtly, giving up on one tangle that refused to show its source. He reached down, sliding a hand into his boot and retrieving his hidden knife. He used one hand to flick the knife open and cut through the tangle.

“It’s not really that simple,” Noctis sighed, plucking an incorrectly sorted bobber out of a box and dropping it in with others of its kind.

"Sure it isn't," Gladio grimaced. He might have thought Noctis was being unnecessarily dramatic, or he might have just stabbed himself on several small hooks; either way, he looked distinctly displeased as he answered. Noctis ignored this, stuck on his own thoughts. 

"What if it really isn't?" 

Gladio growled, digging a sharp point out of his palm. "Look," he said, his patience wearing thin, "just go apologize for whatever you did. You know he's going to forgive you." 

Noct was silent for several long moments and when he spoke again, it was sulkily. "How do you know it was something I did?" 

"Always is."

"Isn't." Noctis was minimally affronted. "There are plenty of times he apologizes to me."

"Yeah, well. Doesn't mean he should." Gladio held out his hand, palm open, tiny silver hooks glinting in a neat pile. "You need to learn to clean up your messes," he said, fixing his gaze steadily on Noctis' face. Noct immediately caught the double meaning; Gladio was not subtle, and it was a familiar lesson, one of Ignis' favorites that was repeated often, that he had yet to learn. He held out his hand, allowing Gladio to pour the hooks in his cupped palms carefully. He felt strangely uneasy as Gladio's hands brushed against his skin gently, warmly, used to a rougher touch from the bigger man. He wanted to jerk his hands back but suppressed the instinct with only a small nervous twitch. 

"Working on it," he said at last, pulling his hands away and dumping the hooks in their proper place. 

"The rest of us will be waiting in breathless anticipation." 

Noct rolled his eyes, the peculiar frisson he'd felt when they'd touched gone. Why did Gladio always have to get the last word?


End file.
